


Killing Me Slowly

by winter_scldier



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Depressed Crowley (Good Omens), Disabled Character, Holy Water, Hurt Crowley, M/M, Self-Harm, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-14 12:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20192368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_scldier/pseuds/winter_scldier
Summary: After seeing right through their little scheme, the angels gave Crowley a little taste of Heaven.They broke his body, and he couldn't miracle himself back to normal anymore.





	1. Fallen

_It had been a few years since the apocalypse, but Crowley and Aziraphale were reminded of it every time they looked at each other. The demons had been surprisingly merciful with Aziraphale, all things considered. They beat him bad enough and left him for dead, but he survived. He had been hiding out on Earth for weeks, terrified of what they were doing to Crowley before he came slamming down in the bookshop, screaming._

_Shrieks of pain and terror echoed throughout the darkened bookshop. They had broken his wings and his spine, and had found a way to strip him of his powers. Aziraphale was immediately at his side, wasting all his energy trying to heal the broken bones. Eventually, the screaming stopped. Crowley had passed out, and Aziraphale nearly followed. He let his body collapse next to Crowley as he quietly started to sob._

Since then, they made due. While Crowley was doomed to live an eternity of agonizing pain, Aziraphale soon realized his punishment was to watch the love of his life wither away, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Crowley rolled his wheelchair into his office, and carefully opened his safe. He slowly pulled out the thermos and studied it, thinking. He was lucky that the angels had taken away his leg and hip pain by paralyzing him, but the pain where they shattered his wings and broke his ribs would always be with him. Aziraphale had been so worried in the seventies about Crowley using the water to kill himself, and back then that thought had only been in the back of his mind. But now, as he held the nearly empty thermos in his hands, he considered it.

He opened the lid and swirled the remain water around the bottom. Without thinking, he tilted it just enough to spill a little on his forearm. He let out a yelp, but at the same time, he relished in feeling something other than just a dull ache. He quickly slammed the thermos shut and back into the safe before he could do anymore harm. He let out a shaky breath and leaned back in his chair. His arm had a long, dark burn mark where the water hit, and he realized he would carry that mark for the rest of time. The pain had mostly disappeared, and once again, he was left with a dull ache. He grabbed a jacket from his desk with a sigh, letting out a grimace as he shrugged it on, and made his way back out to where Aziraphale was making lunch.

Aziraphale tried his best to make sure Crowley was happy. He rubbed his back, gently massaging where the wings connected. Crowley used to cry tears of joy when he talked about the tingling it sent through him. He used to talk about how the tingles took away the pain as he stimulated the nerves. But as time went on, the tingling stopped. Crowley never exactly told Aziraphale, but only felt pain, or nothing at all now. The angels had damaged his bodies spinal cord, and in some ways it felt like they were still breaking it. Soon enough, he would feel nothing but empty pain. 

But for now, he tried to be okay for Aziraphale. He made sure to smile when they talked, made sure to cover the holy water scars. He fought through seering, white pain and tried to get up and walk, only to collapse back into the wheelchair. He mastered the art of crying silently at night while Aziraphale slept beside him. 

Crowley prayed to God more now than he ever did before, even though he knew She wasn't listening. He begged for forgiveness, sobbing and screaming for mercy, but She never answered.


	2. Pain

Crowley felt a burning sensation run down the front of his body. He opened his eyes to find himself on Heavens holy ground just before Gabriel's foot came crashing down on his spine. He let out a yelp as he picked him up by his wings, ripping out the feathers as he dragged Crowley to the other side of the room. Michael held Crowley down as Gabriel dripped the holy water into the wounds, teasing him.

_"What's the matter **Raphael?** Does it burn? Don't you wish this would end?"_

The only thing that kept Crowley going was his memory of Aziraphale. The thought of being in his angels arms was enough to keep him alive through all Gabriel's torture. For weeks, they left him in a blinding white room, his skin burning on the Holy ground if he stayed in one place for too long. A glass of holy water was left in the corner of the room if he felt like ending it all, but he refused to play their game. 

The angels found joy in watching him squirm away from them when they entered the room. His ribs were bruised and broken, each breath sending sharp pains with every movement. It didn't take a lot of effort for Gabriel to get him on his stomach and exposing his wings and back, and Crowley was too weak to crawl away before his spine was shattered. 

Gabriel and Michael laughed as they listened to Crowley's pain turn to panic. They stood back and watched him struggle to move his legs and fail, screaming and sobbing as he tried to crawl away. The next thing he knew, he was slammed into the floor of Aziraphale's dusty bookshop. When he discovered he wasn't trapped in Heaven anymore, he wasted all his energy trying to fix his body. He was begging God to heal him, bring his body back to normal, but he found out later from Aziraphale that he was just screaming. 

Crowley had spared Aziraphale the details of his weeks spent in Heaven. It didn't matter to Crowley how many times Aziraphale offered his help or sympathy, he didn't need to know what they were capable of doing. Years later, it haunted him that they let him go. He knew they enjoyed to watch him bleed and burn, and it horrified him to think that they could come down at any point and end them both at any time. 

After several years of drained energy and wasted energy, Crowley resigned himself to a wheelchair. There were many painful nights of Crowley sobbing on the floor after failing to get himself from chair to bed, and Aziraphale dragging his limp body onto the mattress. He resigned himself to a dark depression, letting Aziraphale take care of him everytime he needed it.


	3. Burning

Crowley made the mistake of taking off his jacket without knowing Aziraphale was watching from across the room. His only clue was the sound of a tea cup shattering on the floor by the doorway. 

"Crowley..." Aziraphale muttered weakly. "Your arms...What happened to your arms?" 

He turned away, unable to look Aziraphale in the eye. He knew the answer, holy water burns were unmistakable. Especially on a demon's skin. Crowley had never felt so helpless, so guilty as he did then. All he could do was let out a breathless apology as he tried to force his voice not to break. 

Aziraphale was speechless, he was furious. He wanted nothing more than to yell about how he never wanted to give Crowley the holy water to begin with, how he should've told him he was so upset and they could've worked through it together. But something in his heart forced him to stand there silently as Crowley's quiet sobs echoed throughout the empty room. The pair stayed there for what seemed like hours before Crowley stopped.

"I just needed to _feel_ angel. My body has been broken for six thousand years, and just for once I wanted to feel something different. Something other than the pain in my back and the base of my fucking useless wings." He chuckled sadly. "You know, at first I thought getting placed in the stupid chair was a gift from God herself. I mean, for once my leg pain and my hip pain was gone. No more hiding my ache from you, no more hiding my limp behind the saunter. God you have no idea how much guilt I have for hiding all this from you, but...I didn't want you to suffer with me. I'm so, so sorry Aziraphale..."

Crowley forced himself to look up at Aziraphale, who appeared to have also been crying for quite some time. As the silence of the room set in once more, Crowley knew he didn't deserve to be forgiven. He had brought this pain upon himself, and now he had brought it on Aziraphale too. He buried his head in his hands, and prayed silently. Crowley felt a gentle hand fall on his shoulder. 

_"I forgive you."___

_ _It felt as though the weight of the world lifted off Crowley's shoulders. He turned his body and sobbed into Aziraphale's torso, thanking him profusely as he cried. Aziraphale never wanted to admit it, but in that moment, it took everything he had not to start sobbing too. Eventually he sat down in a desk chair next to Crowley, and the two held each other in the silence. For the first time in six thousand years, Crowley finally felt peace._ _


End file.
